


a touch of yearning

by jollyswoosh



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Demisexual Steven Universe, Demisexuality, F/M, Teen Romance, strange new feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-15 01:30:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19285336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jollyswoosh/pseuds/jollyswoosh
Summary: Steven's natural tendency to be especially touchy lands him in a situation he isn't quite prepared for.





	a touch of yearning

No one would argue that Steven wasn’t a very physically affectionate person. He was a child who clung, a kid who hugged, and that rare teenager who never found embarrassment in his own need, his desire for closeness and comfort with others. Resting his head on Garnet’s lap, casually playing with Amethyst’s hair, looping his arm with Pearls on a walk, it all came easily, as unabashed as a baby’s fist wrapped tight around a finger. Everyone he knew eventually learned to expect his touch and, even if initially reluctant, everyone came to appreciate the security and certainty it held.

So on a cold winter’s night in Beach City, the clouds nearly solid with the threat of snow, it was unsurprising to find Steven and Connie bundled close together on his bed, staying warm while watching something cheesy and deeply 80’s that Greg had dug out of a hidden corner of his van. It was nothing new.

Connie was someone Steven especially liked to be close to. Her skin emminated a kind of warmth that was subtly different from heat -- it was an emotional warmth, a warmth in the metaphysical sense that he was always desperate to be close to, so he was always brushing gentle fingers through her hair, feeling the slender bones in her wrist, basking in the definiteness of her in his arms when they hugged. Sitting close as they were, he thrilled simply having her shoulder pressed against his. It was natural to bring a hand up to rest on her back, right below the collar of her t-shirt. A gesture familiar to both of them, so common it needed no acknowledgement, save a small, content noise from Connie, hardly more than breathing out through her nose.

Soon Steven’s fingers were soothing over her skin just above her shirt. It was one of those places where her skin was extra soft, and the pads of his fingers floating over it like silk. Occasionally his fingers drew up, trailing to the base of her neck before coming back down, his nails a hushed scratch. Connie had gotten very quiet, but Steven’s eyes were on the screen, the movement of his hand mostly absent, devoid of any intent.

He laughed at a joke and missed the hitch of her breath as he played with the downy curls at her hairline. He splayed his fingers across the nape of her neck, drawing them in to a small point and then back out again and didn’t feel her suppressed shutter. He was Steven and he touched people in a friendly way. Connie was his friend and he loved contact with her most of all. There was nothing to think about. There was nothing to pay attention to. This was normal.

“St-Steven,” Connie said, her voice pinched.

“Yeah?”

“Can you stop?”

And then Steven looked at Connie, confused, and saw her eyes squeezed shut, her face splotchy and red, noticed the slight tremors under his hand and he couldn’t understand why.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, “Does this feel bad?”

“No…” Connie’s face was redder. She opened her eyes and the pupils were blown wide in a way Steven didn’t think he’d ever seen on her face, a way that made something drop out from just below his rib cage, “No, I… I like it _too_ much.”

Steven pulled away like he was burned, Connie’s constant warmth suddenly _hot_ and the needy tingle that had started in his hands as a response was both intriguing and horrifying. He hadn’t meant to do that. Even at sixteen going on seventeen, even after an uncomfortable afternoon of his father sputtering out explanations while trying to be nonchalant, Steven hadn’t totally grasped the kind of intense intent that was supposed to arise when two people loved each other very much.

He grasped it now. Or rather, he was trying very hard not to grasp it, moving away from Connie in a rush, his face hot, a persistent shaking in his core. He wasn’t ready for this thing they had stumbled into, neither of them were, but he couldn’t deny the overwhelming, terrifying urge he felt to hold her face in his hands and bring it close to his and never, ever let go.

“Sorry! Sorry, Connie, I am _so_ sorry, I --” she cut him off with an exaggerated shaking of her hands and head.

“No, Steven, it’s fine! You didn’t know, I,” she paused and looked away, “I didn’t know.”

It was now a strange thing they _both_ knew; Steven liked to wear water wings even though he knew how to swim, Connie’s favorite ice cream flavor was pistachio, they both thought the third _Lonely Blade_ movie was the best and, oh yeah, Connie’s neck was an erogenous zone.

Neither of them had stopped blushing.

“It’s fine,” said Connie with finality, forcing her way past the situation, “It’s totally fine. Let’s finish the movie.”

So they did.

But Steven, touchy Steven, cuddleable, affectionate, tender Steven, kept his hands to himself for the rest of the night. He didn’t like doing it. He wanted nothing more than to be pressed together as they always were, to place a hand on her knee and rub his thumb over the soft flannel of her pajama bottoms. Steven was a physically affectionate person. It made him feel good and made other people feel good. But here was a new avenue of touch that he hadn’t explored with a person he was suddenly aware he really wanted to explore it with. He wasn’t sure he could touch her at all without going down that road.

  
_“This,”_ he thought, exasperated and flustered, a burning feeling going down his spine that at least made the cold his lonely body was experiencing more bearable, _“is confusing.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this was something that wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. Based off a thing I myself did during a sleepover when I was 17. So if you think Steven should have known better just know that, from my personal experience, it is possible to legit be that dense. Could I keep going? Probably. But this is a good enough conclusion and I'll continue it later if the mood strikes. Consider it a one-shot for now.


End file.
